by Tony Daniel
“I’m coming back to town,” she said. “I was about to leave, it’s only…I didn’t want him to be alone.”
Ravenelle put her hand on one of the bodies placed near the edge of the wagon. Wulf was confused for a moment, but then he saw the wispy beard and the small horns sticking out from curly brown hair.
It was Grim.
“Oh, no,” Wulf said. “He was…I thought he’d be safe with the wagons. I ordered him to stay back, but…How?”
“Some Sandhavener men on horses circled and got into the supply train,” Ravenelle replied. “We fought them off, but…I’m sorry, von Dunstig, I really am.”
Wulf put his hands on the faun’s shoulders and gazed at his still face. There was a piece of burlap cloth covering his goatlike lower parts. Wulf lifted it up briefly and saw a terrible wound to the groin where the leg met the hip. The brown hair of his rump and leg was matted with still-wet blood.
“He died fighting for us. He and Ursel Keiler with some of the buffalo-man teamsters,” Ravenelle went on. “He saved my life. Others, too.” She looked down at the faun, shook her head. “A lot of people.”
Wulf glanced at Ravenelle. A blood red tear rolled down her cheek. There were red trails that others had left on her skin.
He drew back from Grim and put a hand around her shoulder. After a moment, the buffalo driver shook his reins. The wagon with Grim and the other faun dead trundled on toward the tobacco fields north of town. There the dead fauns would be placed on pyres set up in a cleared spot ringed with huge stone pillars. Wulf had seen it before, but only from a distance. This was the sacred place where fauns burned their dead.
Wulf thought about offering a prayer to Ostern, the female divine being the fauns most revered, but found he couldn’t do that. Grim had been quiet and not very expressive, but he had never once failed or abandoned Wulf. The prayer should be authentic. Wulf wasn’t sure who he believed in anymore.
The divine beings, maybe? Should he pray to Tretz? He would feel stupid doing that after so many years thinking it was nonsense.
So he ended up bowing his head as he held on to Ravenelle and speaking to no god or divinity in particular, but to all of them. He used a form he’d heard before at the funerals of veterans.
“Let us be worthy of Grim’s sacrifice,” he said. Those words, too, sounded hollow, and he felt his own tears welling, choking off any words that didn’t seem real.
Finally Ravenelle spoke. “Go on, von Dunstig. It isn’t stupid.”
He stood silent a moment longer, watching the wagon go. This reminded him of something in Tjark’s Saga, when Hefni, the old duke’s son, fell in the fight to win the valley. “Let Shenandoah hold him in her arms,” Wulf said. He paused a moment then spoke the rest of the stanza. “To live again in the Never and Forever.”
“You are such a barbarian,” Ravenelle said, but she was crying again, and she buried her head against his right shoulder and stained yet another spot on his tabard red with her tears.
They rode back to the eastern gate of Raukenrose as fast as they could. When they got there, Earl Keiler was off his horse, standing near the eastern-gate entrance. A Sandhavener with a truce flag was speaking to the earl. Suddenly Ravenelle stiffened on her horse beside him and pulled up. Wulf did, too.
“That’s one of Rask’s Hundred,” she said. “I can feel his mind.”
“Can you get in?”
“He’s one of mine now. Do you want me to?”
Wulf considered. “No, not yet. But can you find out if he’s telling the truth without his knowing it?”
“Not usually.” Ravenelle paused for a moment, concentrating on the man. She nodded. “He’s weak. His thoughts are leaking,” she said. There was a wisp of a wicked smile on her face. “Yes, he won’t know I’m listening in.”
Wulf handed the reins to one of the guards and got down from his horse. He and Ravenelle walked over to hear what was being said between the earl and the soldier.
“—in Allfather Square.” There was the drawn out “a” in “Allfather” marking the man’s accent as coming from the Chesapeake Tidewater.
Earl Keiler glanced over to Wulf.
“Messenger from Trigvi,” he said. “He wants to meet us. Discuss terms.”
It’s the end of a fight. You’ve got your opponent beaten and desperate. That hadn’t happened to him very often in the ring. But it happened to Rainer all the time.
What would Rainer do?
“Finish it off. Don’t mess around,” Rainer would say. “If you waste time ragging them, they might try something that works.”
Wulf shrugged.
“The terms are simple. Unconditional surrender,” he said.
The soldier made a grimacing expression that might have been meant as a smile. “I hope we can come to a more honorable arrangement,” he said.
“No,” Wulf said. “Tell him. And tell the other.”
“What ‘other’ are you talking about?” said the soldier.
“The draugar,” Wulf said. “Wuten.”
The other paused, as if searching for words. His face grew pale.
Scared to death.
“Unconditional surrender,” Wulf said. “Tell Wuten. He’s the real commander here. Tell him I’ll meet him in Allfather Square.”
The other stepped back, made a slight bow. “Prince Trigvi will be there,” he said.
“Prince Trigvi can go to cold hell,” Wulf said. “It’s the draugar who needs to be at the square.” Wulf pointed toward the gate entrance. “Please get out of my sight.”
He looked over to Ravenelle, and the two watched as the man went through the gate back into the town.
“Is he going to do it?” Wulf asked her.
“He’ll do it,” she said, “but he’s absolutely terrified. And not of you.”
Wulf breathed out the tension he’d been holding in. “I’m terrified too,” he said. “But I’m getting used to it.”
Once again, Keiler went into a coughing fit. This time it did not go away. After being doubled over, he sank to his knees.
From somewhere nearby, Ursel ran from the crowd of soldiers. She knelt next to Keiler and put an arm around his neck to comfort him.
He said something to her, and Ursel motioned Wulf to come over. He knelt down beside her. There was a pool of blood the earl had coughed up on the ground below him.
“Has he ever been like this?” Wulf asked Ursel.
“Not for months,” Ursel said. “He was getting better, but the strain of the past few days has done this, I’m sure.”
“Will he get better?”
“It will take weeks.”
“We don’t have weeks,” Wulf said. “We have one watch, at most.”
Keiler gestured for Wulf to come closer.
“You’ll have to go without me,” Keiler whispered.
“I need you, Earl,” Wulf stammered.
“No,” Keiler coughed again. More blood poured from his mouth.
“His lungs are bleeding,” Ursel said. “He will drown in his own blood if he doesn’t rest.”
Keiler reached over and grabbed Wulf’s arm. He pulled Wulf even closer. “You can do this,” he whispered. “But take Tolas.”
PART SEVEN
Chapter Forty-Nine:
The Temptation
Saeunn had been afraid when the draugar sent for her.
This was it. He’d tortured the castle guard. He seemed sure that someone in the castle knew where the Dragon Hammer was hidden.
Now it was her turn. And she did know.
Two of the Hundred brought her to the highest spot in the castle, the crow’s nest lookout that topped the tower that Saeunn’s quarters were in.
They shoved her onto the flat stone roof. There was no stone balustrade, no railing of any kind here.
Wuten stood near the edge. His vulturelike head turned this way and that, like a carrion eater looking for dead things to feed on. He was gazing out on the town below.
She smelled h
is stench, but it was a little less here with the wind whipping some of it away.
Saeunn moved away from the draugar to the opposite side of the lookout. She gazed out. There were fires in the distance, and smoke rising beyond the walls.
The Hundred guards withdrew. By now everyone could tell that the draugar had Romanlike mental control over the soldiers who occupied the castle. They were a company of slaves.
“Come here, little elf, I will show thee.” He beckoned Saeunn to him. There was no point resisting. He could drag her if he wished. She stepped over and stopped, a pace away from him.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“To watch the ruin of the dragons,” Wuten replied with a shrug. He turned from the scene beyond the balcony and looked at Saeunn with his round, black eyes. “The prince has lost.”
What prince? Saeunn felt a sudden joy in her heart. Trigvi has lost? Nobody in the castle knew what was happening outside. A band of the Hundred had marched out earlier and not returned.
“Good,” she said.
“The town lies burned. Looted. Made use of.”
“They’ll rebuild.”
“No, this charade must end,” Wuten said. “The heir will give me the relic.”
“Who?”
“The boy. The new heir.”
“Adelbert?”
“Thou know’st he is dead.”
Wulf, Saeunn thought. He’s talking about Wulf then.
The rush of relief and happiness inside her was almost too much to contain. But she would not show anything to this monster.
Did Wulf have the Dragon Hammer?
“He knows where,” Wuten said, as if he’d read her mind. “Thou hast a choice.”
“What choice?”
“Give thyself for the heir that he might live.”
“Me? What do you want me to do?”
The draugar stepped close to her. It was all Saeunn could do to stand where she was and not run away. But she couldn’t stop herself from trembling.
“Thou art young. But thy dasein is strong,” he said. “Thou can’st grow into great power.”
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
Wuten did not answer her, but continued. “I will soon have the relic. The relic is beyond age. Beyond the master’s control.”
“Are you talking about Ubel?” Saeunn asked.
Wuten hissed. “Do not say his name! He is drawn by it.”
“What do you care? Like you said, he’s your master.”
Wuten’s hand shot out. He grabbed Saeunn by an arm and yanked her toward him. His curved beak was a finger’s breadth from her eyes before he stopped. The smell of death was almost unbearable this close.
“Not forever, little elf,” he rasped. “With the relic, the three will rise. The master gorges on the Tiberian dragon. He is prideful in his strength. He does not suspect.”
“You are a fool, then,” Saeunn said. “He knows.”
“I tell thee he does not.”
“What do you want from me?”
Wuten grabbed Saeunn’s wrist with his other hand. His taloned nails dug into her skin.
“Yoke thy dasein to mine. We shall be the strongest of the three.”
He pulled her hand up, forced her palm open with a sharp poke of his thumb.
“Rule with me.”
Then he lowered the tip of his beak onto her palm.
Saeunn tried to pull away, but his hold was like iron on her wrist.
With a small flick of his head, Wuten laid her skin open. A line of red blood welled up.
He let go of her hair, keeping hold of her wrist, and reached for something he wore on his belt. It was a small pouch. From inside it, he took something, something small. She couldn’t see what it was.
Then he opened his own palm under her sliced one and slowly turned it over. The pooled blood dripped into his open hand—and onto the black wafer that lay in his palm. The wafer thirstily absorbed her blood. After a moment, Wuten let her go and Saeunn pulled away quickly, nursing her hand against her breast.
She watched in horror as the draugar’s beak opened, and Wuten ate the blood-soaked wafer.
She saw him swallow. For a moment, he stood still, as if savoring the taste.
Then he held up his empty left palm facing himself. With the tip of his beak, he pierced his own flesh. Black ichor welled up. It flowed more like fatty oil than blood.
With his right hand he took another wafer from the pouch. He placed it in the liquid gore of his hand. “See the ater-cake’s power,” he said. He showed her how the wafer drank up the offering.
Again, he moved with lightning speed and grabbed her. This time he held her by the hair at the back of her neck. He pulled her close, and forced her to look down.
The gore-soaked wafer was in his hand. It was sopping with the draugar’s black, oozing blood.
“Take, sister,” he said. “Eat. Join with me.”
“No,” Saeunn whimpered.
“Die, little elf, and live through me.”
“Never.”
“If thou do’st not, I will flay the skin from the heir. Slowly,” he said. “He will beg for death. I will give his sisters away for the use of the soldiers.”
“You would do that anyway.”
“No. Between us will be a dasein ring, an unbreakable bond. Choose me, and they will live.”
My star . . .
He pushed his hand near her mouth. If she wanted, she could reach the ater-cake with her tongue. Saeunn gazed down at the wafer. If she ate it, Anya and Ulla would be saved. Wulf would live.
Where are you, my star?
For her, it would all be over. All the striving and fighting and heartbreak.
Or would it?
My star? My own?
Wuten plotted rebellion against Ubel, the originator of all evil. Did this mean there was a part of the ancient elf still inside the draugar? Was that part of himself living on in agony and screaming to escape?
I don’t want to find out.
“No!” she cried, and pulled back from him with all her strength.
“Then suffer,” Wuten told her. “And die.” He closed his hand over the ater-cake and, with a vicious yank on her hair, drew her away from himself, his claws still holding to her hair.
He’s going to kill me now, Saeunn thought. He can’t let me live knowing about his plan to rebel.
It was then that her star finally answered.
You have escaped the shadow, my child, my own. Now the way is clear for us.
What do you mean, my star?
Before her star answered the draugar twisted her by her hair and made her look out at the town.
“We go.”
“Go where?” she whispered.
The draugar didn’t answer. “Thou wilt calm the young one.”
Anya.
“What will you do to her?”
“The heir will tell, or his sister will die,” Wuten said.
“No,” said Duchess Malwin. “She can’t!” She rushed forward and threw her arms around her daughter, tugging her away from the draugar.
Captain Rask stepped up and took the duchess firmly by one arm and Anya by another. He pulled the duchess away from her daughter. Then he flung the duchess backward to land at Ulla’s feet.
Ulla pointed at the draugar with two fingers of her left hand. Saeunn knew in Ulla’s creed this meant a curse was being cast.
“I curse you to the eternal night beyond Helheim,” Ulla said to the draugar. “No eyes. No lips to speak. No ears. No nose. No feeling, but for nothingness. Nothing, nothing, nothing! You are nothing!”
The draugar considered her for a moment. He turned to another of the Hundred. “Hit her,” he said. The man walked over and backhanded Ulla to the ground. Blood dripped from her nose and lip, and there was a red smear under the skin of her cheek that would soon be a purpled bruise.
“Take them to the barbican,” said the draugar, indicating the duchess and Ulla with a sweeping gesture
. “Make them watch us leave.”
Rask pointed to two soldiers. They hurried forward and grabbed the two women. They took the duchess by the arm and Ulla by the neck. They bent her head and shoulders down, forcing her to stumble forward.
Rask brought Anya over to Saeunn. “Take her,” he ordered.
Saeunn opened up her arms and Anya ran into them, burying her face in Saeunn’s dress.
“Leave twenty,” the draugar said to Rask. “The rest will march with me. Bring horses.” The draugar paused and considered. “And what is left of the dead lord’s body.”
“Your will.” Rask bowed and turned to shout orders.
He’d strapped a bundle wrapped in dirty muslin to the back of a black horse.
Otto’s body. Dragged from some dank place it had been dumped.
The draugar motioned to the captain of the Hundred to take Anya. She tried kicking and screaming, but there was no use. The man seemed to be nothing but muscle.
Wuten mounted a horse, a black stallion without a trace of white on him. It was a living horse. But it seemed used to the draugar and didn’t bolt. Saeunn was lifted to her own horse. Anya was placed in front of her on the saddle. They passed out the gate and beside the jutting barbican. Saeunn risked a look up.
There were the duchess and Ulla leaning over the balustrade. They watched Anya go.
Broken, Saeunn thought. All hope gone.
Anya waved feebly to her mother and sister. After a moment, the duchess waved back.
The draugar fell in next to them. He leaned over toward Anya. “Allfather Cathedral, little one?” the draugar said to Anya. “Like thee told me.”
Anya began to cry.
“You don’t have to be sorry for anything, Anya,” Saeunn said to her foster sister. She half expected the draugar to order her muzzled, but he said nothing. He kicked his horse and rode ahead once again.
He doesn’t know. That’s why he’s keeping us alive. He may not even know where to look.
Anya spoke without looking back at her. “Saeunn, I didn’t say where. He couldn’t get me to say. But he hurt me and I said Wulf knows. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s all right, Evinthir,” Saeunn said.